“You made it one.” Bending down, I cradle Audrey’s face between my hands and lean my forehead against hers. “I wouldn’t have been able to do any of this without you. Thank you, my darling Audrey, for reintroducing me to the world and encouraging me to be who I was always meant to be. I love you. With you by my side, life is worth living and I’m looking forward to spending eternity with you.”
“I love you too,” Audrey whispers back. “As long as the sun shines in the day and the stars at night.”
Our lips brush together in an echo of everything we feel.
Before it develops into more, Audrey slows us down again. “Let’s go kick off Starry Hill’s first official festival.”
Hand in hand, we exit the castle and walk toward the wide-open plain already teeming with activity.
Audrey has overseen preparations for the entire festival, and despite coming down here to help her all week, the sight in front of us still has my breath catching in my throat.
Color drenches the landscape. Cheerful bunting is strung above the festival area, the colorful triangular flags swaying on a mild breeze that whispers across the hills.
My eyes skim from one scene to the next, the sound of children’s laughter ringing through the air as they chase each other around the booths, dodging long legs, big wings, and massive baskets bursting with wildflowers dotting the verdant plain.
In one corner, I spot Marisol setting up with a band, and soon a folk melody winds through the festival and straight into my heart.
I pause to drink it all in, my fingers tightening around Audrey’s while the music from the fiddle, harp, drum, and whistle draw a crowd around them. A few creatures start dancing, light fracturing over them in hundreds of dazzling beams from a giant mirror ball that could only have been placed there by Audrey’s design.
A maypole, with ribbons in all shades of the rainbow and the top adorned with a dense crown of flowers, draws the attention of a group of revelers. They each grab a ribbon and weave around the post, half going clockwise and the other half the opposite way until the ribbons are wrapped around the pole.
On the opposite end, four very long tables—mixed and matched together with the dining tables from many Starry Hill kitchens—are decorated with lace runners and will soon be laden with an abundance of dishes.
Unlit lanterns in all shapes and sizes dangle from the branches above them, and dozens of strings of lights crisscross the entire festival area.
Everything looks magical.
I lift a hand toward the large red-and-white structure standing off to one side. “Aurelius really built that himself?”
“Yup,” Audrey says and glances up at me. “Want to slide down with me later?”
“Definitely.”
When I have control of my emotions again, we stroll through the crowd, each creature greeting us warmly as we pass by.
Audrey keeps a bottle of sunscreen in her bag and hands it to me regularly for touch-ups in case all the contact rubs anything off. I love her extra consideration, the same way I stop to scent her every so often to check her blood sugar levels.
The two of us stop briefly for some ice cream, then head over toward the competition field at the other end, tucked a safe distance away from the rest of the lively activities.
“Are you really adamant about calling it the Stewart Games?” I ask.
Audrey tilts her head to the side. “What would you suggest instead?”
“The Starry Hill Games?” I say slowly, scrubbing a hand over my freshly shorn hair.
Despite enjoying the slightly longer strands, Audrey and I had decided to keep it short for the festival since some of the events are scheduled in the afternoon. Audrey realized that I was a little worried about sun safety and didn’t want my hair to detract from the rest of the day.
Audrey hums noncommittally. “Not bad, but by calling it The Stewart Games we get to be reminded who it’s in honor of.”
“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” I breathe out.
Raising her index finger, Audrey says, “Hold that thought until you see what other surprises I have cooked up.”
“Should I be nervous?”
“Maybe.”
Not even a full minute passes before I see something I was not prepared for.
